


Not Just Yet

by Holopeno



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 22:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3150794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holopeno/pseuds/Holopeno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know,” Steve started, pulling his navy colored coat over his broad shoulders, “the clothes I bought a few months back are still hanging up in the closet.”</p><p>Tony, who’d awkwardly turned onto his side in their bed, glanced towards his husband, narrowing his eyes and giving a forced sort of laugh at his words. “Steve, please… I love you and all, but you have to admit those clothes are pretty tacky. I’m trying to avoid looking like Mrs. Doubtfire.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Just Yet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonykins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonykins/gifts).



> I finally made an account here, yay! I wrote this a little before Christmas for my friend, and because it was terrible to read on my blog which was in all italics, I wanted to post it here. Go easy on me, yeah? This is my first time posting something of mine since I was thirteen, so I'm nervous. To get over that nervousness, though, I'm looking for prompts and shit to post in the future, so if you're interested do tell me! My tumblr is _buckkybby.tumblr.com_ , so... You can message me anytime. Really. I'm lonely. I have nothing to write right now, so it's likely I'll be writing whatever I get pretty quickly. Anywho, enjoy.

There were many grueling factors that needed to be taken into careful consideration during a pregnancy, numerous unfavorable problems that could very well become a reality, but out of all of the possible complications and setbacks, Tony was most worried about his size and the, however unsurprising, noticeable weight gain that came with carrying a however-many-pound kid around for nine months. He’d been on the train of don’t knock it till you try it with Steve when, by month five, the solider had insisted he buy real maternity clothes because the normal ones he had clearly weren’t fitting to his growing figure anymore; the idea of not knocking _whatever _it was had been thrown out the window when Steve, bless his soul, had returned with a bag full of flashy and unsightly maternity wear.__

Tony swore Steve had bribed the rest of the team to say they liked the clothes—either that or they just didn’t have an eye for fashion—and, right off the bat, Clint had been the first one to make a witty comment. Tony had started back to his own room before Clint could finish, though, and while he was a little upset, hearing Steve angrily lecture the archer made everything better and that much more hilarious in the end. Still, Tony had told Steve that he really _really _was okay and could still squeeze into the attire he had in his closet. Of course, it was an excuse to get out of wearing those god-awful maternity clothes because he didn’t want to tell Steve outright that he didn’t like them, but now, well into the third trimester, Tony needed something other than Steve’s old shirts and pants to wear.__

“You know,” Steve started, pulling his navy colored coat over his broad shoulders, “the clothes I bought a few months back are still hanging up in the closet.”

Tony, who’d awkwardly turned onto his side in their bed, glanced towards his husband, narrowing his eyes and giving a forced sort of laugh at his words. “Steve, please… I love you and all, but you have to admit those clothes are pretty tacky. I’m trying to avoid looking like Mrs. Doubtfire.” Steve responded with an amused huff, and Tony whined helplessly as the blond moved closer. The genius reached out with both hands as Steve helped to pull him into a sitting position. Tony hated that he had to rely on Steve for most things now, hated that he had to call the other man in just to help with his own basic needs; Steve, on the other hand, enjoyed it to no end, and he thought it was endearing when he heard Tony yelling for him for something as simple as needing help to put his shoes on. Yeah, Tony was ecstatic about having a child, but the pregnancy itself he was coming to loathe, and he couldn’t wait to be able to see his feet again and to fit into his normal sized clothes and to not look like some huge blimp.

Bruce had instructed Tony to go on bed rest a few days prior, and Tony had agreed, albeit still begged for a couple more days to walk around the tower and be somewhat normal and useful because he felt like a burden and a stupid responsibility when he was sitting in bed doing nothing. The team liked to reiterate that, no, he wasn’t an obligation or anything, Steve especially, but there had always been that wavering voice in the back of his head that told him he was. In any case, Bruce had buckled under Tony’s persistent demands and allowed another four days for him to do whatever it was that he so badly wanted. Three of those four days were up, and admittedly Tony hadn’t done anything but stay in bed during that time, but he was determined to do something today because he was going to be confined to his bed sooner than later.

And that something, right now, included wandering down to the main kitchen area to sneak one of the many jars of cookies Steve had bought over the course of the pregnancy back to bed. Tony was actually surprised he hadn’t eaten them all yet, given his around-the-clock cravings, but that would probably change soon enough since he planned on bringing what was left up to the room. They would at least be easier to get to then. In the meantime, Tony had asked Steve to go buy some regular oversized shirts—even though he fussed about the ones already bought, Tony really couldn’t care less at this point and would likely throw one on after the other man had left. It was a distraction, kind of, to keep Steve busy while Tony did his own things. Tony loved Steve more than anything, but he’d gotten a tad bit weary with the soldier hovering when he was trying to do… stuff. Hormones, maybe, but after the kid was born, the genius would most definitely go back to clinging to Steve like bark to a tree and protesting loudly when the blond wasn’t right beside him.

“Go hunt down those clothes,” Tony began quietly, tugging at the tight shirt straining against the large swell of his middle. Grumbling halfheartedly, Tony struggled with the sweatpants he was wearing, loosening the drawstring a bit before reaching out to Steve once more. “Help me stand first..?” And Steve, like the good little husband he was, helped Tony up, keeping an arm out as the billionaire steadied himself. Tony carried the baby heavy in front of him, and he could instantly feel the shift in pressure to his narrow hips. He groaned in disapproval, tightening his grip on Steve who shuffled closer and, with his free hand, ran an easy palm up and down the smaller man’s back.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just stay in bed?” Steve asked tentatively, swaying gently from side to side as he pulled Tony nearer. Tony hummed, thoughtful, his face buried in Steve’s neck; slowly, he pulled back, one hand moving to support the hefty weight in his abdomen. He gave Steve a small grin, nodding and taking a step back as he replied, “I’m sure, I just needed a minute. I’ll be in bed tomorrow and until kiddo here—” Tony laced fingers with Steve and placed their hands on his rounded belly, “—runs out of legroom. Or body-room, I guess.” The soldier returned the smile, going quiet and waiting, feeling, hoping that he might discern some type of movement from under his palm, but giving a subtle frown when, ultimately, there was nothing. Tony reached up with his other hand and lightly caressed Steve’s cheek. “Don’t worry, you’ll get to play with him whenever he wakes up.” Tony beamed again and Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

“Now,” Tony chirped happily, “I do think it’s time you run down to the store and get me some good fitting clothes.” The brunette gave a pat to Steve’s face, at which the latter rolled his eyes and nodded. “The cool clothes, or however cool maternity— I mean, big clothes, can get. None of that baby on board stuff.” Steve gave a mock salute and pulled Tony in for an eager kiss, drawing away after some long seconds and heading towards the elevator as he waved his goodbye. Tony watched as his husband vanished, waited for a few moments, and eventually caved to the maternity clothes already in his closet as he trudged to go try an outfit on.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

It’d taken Tony a half hour to get real comfortable clothes on—some black stretchy jeans, slip-on shoes because he couldn’t bend over to get the ones on that he liked, and a black and yellow striped shirt which, in hindsight, was a bad idea because he looked like some bloated bumblebee—and he was quite proud of himself because it was the first time in a long time that he’d gotten dressed correctly without any help. The bumblebee shirt didn’t totally cover his globe of a stomach, and the thin, silvery stretch marks that snaked along his lower half weren’t exceptionally hidden, but Tony would be damned if he missed out on cookies because of a shirt that had taken him forever to get into.

Only Bruce had been in the kitchen when Tony entered, and he’d stared in silence at his friend as he struggled to reach one of the last cookie jars on top of the fridge. “Bruce, pal,” Tony finally spoke up, breaking the silence, “can you help a pregnant guy out and get me these cookies?” Bruce nodded compliantly and crossed the kitchen, leaning forward and reaching up to grab one of the jars, handing it over to Tony who all but forgot about his plan to bring the rest back as he delved into the cookies. He ate slower than usual, wanting to actually enjoy the sweets, and talked to Bruce once more through a cookie-filled mouth. “You want one?” Bruce shook his head and changed the subject with an almost motherly toned “you’re going on bed rest tomorrow, right?”

Tony shoveled another cookie into his mouth and nodded casually. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” Bruce gave a contented hum of approval before moving to take the last two cookie jars down from the fridge. “Alright, good… Let’s go, uh, put these into your room. Don’t eat all of them in one sitting, though, okay?” Tony moaned childishly but started his awkward waddle back to the elevator, waiting for Bruce to follow as he finished with a whiny “I got it, mom.”

**~~~~~~~~~~**

After helping Bruce stash the remainder of the cookies away—they were just under the bed, easy access for when the lame bed rest started—Tony had thrown his shoes to the side and fallen back against the bed, curling into the fluffy blankets and running a soothing hand over his belly. He cast a glance towards the side of the bed Steve usually occupied, pursing his lips and debating whether or not he should give him a call. It had only been an hour since he left, but… it didn’t take that long to pick out a few basic shirts and pants, did it? With effort, Tony had turned onto his side, intending to grab his phone but stopping at the sound of the elevator opening. In came Steve with stacked bags of what Tony assumed to be clothes, and seeing the brunett hopelessly trying to push himself into a sitting position, the soldier dropped the bags to the floor and moved to Tony’s side.

“My knight in shining armor,” Tony rasped tiredly, both hands moving to either side of his pregnancy as Steve helped him up. “What’d you bring me, dear prince? A crown? Jewelry? Maybe a dress that this pretty princess can fit into?” Steve smirked and made his way back to grab the bags, emptying them onto the bed and watching intently as the genius picked through the articles of clothing. Tony bobbed his head in approval at some of the clothes, and stuck his tongue out at a few, but as he picked up the last shirt, he gave a high-pitched, immature laugh. “I was joking, Steve. You didn’t have to go out and buy all this—not your fault since I did tell you to, though.”

Steve slouched from his kneeling position next to the bed, brows knitted together confusedly. “Why did you want me to go th—“

Tony cut him off, pressing a finger to Steve’s lips. “I was buying time so I could go get food. I just knew you’d fuss if I was up and walking around. But Bruce helped me, so…”

Steve stared at Tony for a moment, studying him carefully, and then pulled away with a snort. “If you wanted food that bad, I could have done a two-in-one and gotten you some before I came back. And I wouldn’t have fussed.” He paused thoughtfully. “Much.” Steve leaned forward to catch Tony’s mouth in an enraptured kiss, gingerly pushing against him but stopping when Tony broke the gesture with a startled gasp. “What? What happened?” Steve’s eyes widened and he looked his other over attentively, more than prepared to call someone in for help because what the _heck_ did he kiss too hard—

Tony shifted on the bed, his expression changing from worried to puzzled to bemused as he finally shook his head. “No, just—” The genius grabbed at Steve’s hands and placed them on his stomach, just to the left of his long since popped belly button. “His kicks are getting stronger,” Tony griped sarcastically, moving his own hand up to rest atop where the distension of his middle began. Steve was too entranced to reply; instead, he moved his hands under the hideous striped shirt Tony had on and felt along the taut skin in a meticulous manner, barely parting his lips and looking up at his partner in disbelief—he’d felt the flipping movements many times, but it never ceased to shock him that there was something living and alive inside of Tony, something that they’d by some means managed to create together, and that exact something would be cradled in either of their arms come a little over a month.

“He’s moving, he’s…” The blond trailed off and opted to move forward to place his ear against Tony’s belly. A lighter kick met the side of his face this time and Steve’s eyes lit up, a beatific grin from ear to ear crossing over his features as he glimpsed up at Tony. “Yes he’s moving, you old dork.” Tony threaded his fingers into Steve’s hair as the soldier moved his hands around, rubbing small circles into the abused skin, hoping to get more movement. Within seconds, the baby was kicking again, harder this time, and Tony ran one hand over his face. “He’s going to be up for God knows how long now.” Steve paused, continuing to feel around Tony’s middle more, and then said cheerfully, “I hope he stays up forever.” Tony smacked Steve’s shoulder playfully and tossed one of the newly bought shirts at him.

“Well I don’t. Come on, help this blimp up so I can go model this stuff for you.”


End file.
